Beyond the Worst
by Tsona
Summary: FINISHED! Ever wondered what Snape's OTHER worst memories are? A continuation of JK's chapter Snape's Worst Memory. Very sad but it answers lots of our unanswered questions and leaves Harry in a better light. Written preDH.


_A/N: Hello, everyone. First off, I'd like to tell you that this is a continuation of the chapter in OotP called Snape's Worst Memory so if you have not read the book you might as well ignore this fic cuz it'll make no sense to you whatsoever. Second, all this stemmed from conversations I've been part of on the Chamber of Secrets Forums (cosforums.com). I owe quite a bit of credit for the ideas to all the people there. I don't know off the top of my head which people posted the posts that produced this in my mind's crazy eye, and I wouldn't have room to name them all even if I could remember. And third, it's really, really sad!! I hadn't expected it to be this bad, but it's this bad. Well, I suppose that's everything you need to know now. Off you trot. *sniff*  
~Yours forever, Tsona  
_  
  
Who wants to see me take Snivelly's pants off?  
  
But whether James really did take off Snape's pants, Harry never found out. The image faded away into whirling darkness and he knew he was being transferred into another of Snape's memories; another time; another place. He felt a pang of sorrow at leaving his parents despite what he had just witnessed that they had been unaware that their son of several years later was watching them both avidly mere yards away.  
  
The darkness began to clear and now he stood in a dark corridor unbeknownst to him. The stone of the wall was slightly damp and Harry sensed Dark magic hanging thick in the air about the place. A young man in black robes stood to his left. His ear was pressed against a heavy, wooden door which was fastened shut with a great, iron bolt. Greasy folds of black hair fell forward to obscure the man's face. Harry was quite certain that this was a younger Snape - older than he had been in the previous memory yet far more youthful than in the present.  
  
A sallow hand made to move the black curtain behind his ear in a casual gesture, enabling Harry to get a clear view of him. His face still held its yellowish tint yet he looked healthier than his fifteen-year-old self somehow. His confidence in himself seemed to have increased for he no longer stooped when he walked. His dark eyes were wide and kept shooting nervous glances at the otherwise deserted corridor. He couldn't have been much older than twenty-five.  
  
Relived to know that he could not be seen nor heard, Harry too moved toward the door. He stood in front of Snape and pressed his ear against the cold wood. A voice echoed through to him. A voice that was vaguely familiar.  
  
Harry's breath caught when he recognized the speaker. He had last heard that voice in the graveyard last June: wheezing, having just been made to cut off his own right hand; whispering his thanks when it was replaced by one of pure silver.... It was Wormtail! His voice, which was rather squeaky, not unlike the rat he had hidden as for thirteen years in the Weasley family custody, resounded with self pleasure.  
  
My Lord, it is done. The Potters have made me their secret keeper.  
  
A high-pitched voice answered. Harry knew this too. It was smoother and much more seductive than when he had last heard it, in the graveyard shrieking his rage at Harry's lucky escape, yet it was inescapably familiar. It was the voice of a younger Lord Voldemort - before he had killed Harry's parents; before he had given Harry his scar; before the curse had backfired and made him less than spirit....  
  
Very good, Wormtail. I find myself impressed.  
  
Thank you, My Lord, thank you.  
  
Yes, yes.... Now, Wormtail - tell me, where are they hidden?  
  
Harry could feel the blood boiling within him. He glanced back over his shoulder at the young, greasy-haired man that would grow to become his Potion's professor. He could have strangled him then and there. He had known Wormtail had betrayed his parents! He knew and obviously hadn't done anything about it! Harry felt a surge of hatred stronger than any he had ever encountered before as he noticed that a faint smile had formed upon Snape's white lips. Oh, if only Dumbledore knew.... Harry swore to tell the him upon his return to Hogwarts - the moment the headmaster got back from... wherever he was. Then Snape would be out of his life forever.  
  
And Wormtail! He could have killed him too. Standing just on the opposite side of this wooden door. It hardly seemed a barrier to Harry. He'd have charged straight through had he thought he could have managed to do harm to Wormtail. There he was, pretending to be James and Lily's friend! They had trusted him with their lives, entrusted him with their deepest secret! And he betrayed them....  
  
They are in Godric's Hollow, My Lord. Number Thirteen.  
  
Unlucky number thirteen tomorrow night.  
  
Tomorrow night, My Lord? Harry was pleased to hear that there was a slight note of panic in Wormtail's squeak of a voice. But perhaps he always sounded like that. He'd always been a coward. It could have nothing to do with fear for Harry's parents and himself.  
  
Yes, tomorrow, Voldemort hissed in the tone of an impatient teacher trying to explain that two plus two equaled four to a inept pre-school student. I want this out of the way as soon as possible.  
  
Rage filled Harry as he the corridor became inky, spinning blackness once more. He wanted to get out of here. Get out as soon as possible and hurt Snape as badly as he could. But the Pensive wasn't going to let him go just yet.  
  
He was in the entry way of a quaint house. Pained screaming filled Harry's ears so that it was almost past endurance. Somewhere, an infant cried. Harry spun around quickly on the spot. He had to find those people! He had to help them! But he stopped his search as the front door was flung wide open. It hit the wall with a bang that could not be heard over the anguished screams that echoed throughout that rustic house.  
  
Snape stood upon the threshold his face pale and his brow sweaty. He wasn't many years older than when Harry had last seen him in the corridor, listening with contentment to Wormtail's betrayal, but there were definite signs of aging upon his face. He was more lined and his eyes which usually reminded Harry of tunnels reminded him now of an animal that is cornered without escape by its stalker. Harry caught a glimpse of the sky beyond Snape's bent figure - he was wheezing and wincing from the never-ending stream of screams. Black and purple clouds were racing across it, rain was falling to earth in torrents, obscuring the vision and creating crystal balls around the lit street lamps. A fork of lightning ripped across the stormy sky, illuminating the world and casting long shadows. It was followed, almost immediately, by a clap of thunder that managed to make itself heard - even in that house. The weather mirrored the atmosphere inside.  
  
Snape straightened and began to sprint up the stairs toward the screams. Harry followed, pulling his wand from his pocket. He had no idea whether or not his spells could make any impression upon people of the past but he felt he was compelled to do something. He was amazed to see that Snape remained visibly unarmed.  
  
Snape was ahead of him, racing down the dark hallways. His eyes were fixed upon a door at the end. It was slightly open and a bright light filtered into the hall, casting a golden trail on the carpeted floor. Snape burst through it before Harry had caught him up and the screaming stopped abruptly, much to Harry's relief - he hadn't seen what Snape had done to the tormentors but he hoped it was something awful. The baby kept on crying though - sobs that were terrible to listen to, filled with loss and fear.   
  
Harry stepped up beside Snape and saw a sight he would never forget. Before him stood four people he had seen only once before in Dumbledore's Pensive the previous year. Horrorstricken, his eyes traveled to the floor. At their feet were slumped two figures, apparently unconscious. One was a women whose bright, blond hair fell all around her head. The other was a man with locks of a dull brown and blank, unfocused green-gray eyes. Harry looked from the figures on the ground to those hovering above them and he understood who the unconscious figures were. But that meant that the baby....  
  
A wicked sneer, the closest she could muster to a smile, split the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry had heard her voice only once before, proclaiming her continued allegiance to the Dark Lord on which must have been only a few days in the future. Well, Severus, come to join us?  
  
Snape begged and Harry was shocked to hear him use her first name - a _nickname _even! He had wanted him to Stun her or something - not be _friendly_! Bella, this is madness! You'll all be caught, thrown into Azkaban! What will the Ministry do when its two highest ranking Aurors do not show for work tomorrow? They have tests and things to find out who cast the spell. Bella, abandon your plan! Leave now! Snape was _reasoning _with her!  
  
A young boy, he couldn't have been much over nineteen, responded. He had straw-colored hair and a mad glint in his bright blue eyes. We're not going, Severus. Not until we get what we want out of these two useless scumbags. He sent a vehement kick at Frank Longbottom who did nothing more than moan like a dying animal at the attack. Harry felt another rush of anger. His patience with Barty Crouch Junior had already been cut short the previous year. It was with his help that Harry had been transported to the graveyard, Cedric Diggory murdered, and Voldemort returned to his own body. It gave him grim satisfaction to know that he had received the Dementor's Kiss and was now worse than dead - a soulless shell doomed to walk the earth forever. Don't you want to know where our master is? Crouch continued.  
  
Snape did not answer him but continued to address Bellatrix Lestrange. Bella, go! Now! Before the Aurors get here!  
  
Bellatrix's features became cold and rigid at once. She glared at Snape with utmost loathing and raised her wand threateningly, pointing it toward his heart. You did not tell them we are here, did you, Snape? I can easily end your pitiful life here and now.  
  
I did not, Snape said shortly; unfearing. Lucius is occupying them now, as you planned. But still I beg you to go. They will not tell you where the Dark Lord is.  
  
They won't, won't they? Bellatrix raised her wand again and pointed it down at the still figure of Alice Longbottom. She lashed out at her with her foot. Where is the Dark Lord! Bellatrix demanded imperiously. Tell us and we'll leave you be, Longbottom! If you refuse, this can go on all night!  
  
Mrs. Longbottom made no response. Harry felt sure that she was already unconscious and could not have.  
  
Bellatrix scowled and cried, The screams resumed and Harry covered his ears, trying to block out the horrible sounds that drowned the cries of her young son. It was not enough to quell the noise.  
  
To Harry's surprise as much as the Death Eaters, Snape darted forward and grabbed Bellatrix's wand arm. The screams of Mrs. Longbottom cut off as the curse was lifted. Bellatrix now stared at Snape with a mixture of loathing and shock.  
  
Bella, no! Leave them! They can tell you nothing! Don't you see!? You've already driven them to insanity! They can tell neither you nor anyone else anything anymore. Speech is beyond them now. Harry was glad to hear what he thought was regret in Snape's voice. His eyes definitely showed sorrow. He wondered if they had held the same expression after Harry's own parents had been murdered.  
  
Bellatrix wrenched her arm violently from Snape's grasp. Snape took out his wand, his eyes flashing in a way Harry recognized all too well. he begged her, though now there was a firmness in his voice. Harry saw the face of a boy peeking through the bars of the crib. His round eyes were filled with terror beyond explanation. A dry sob escaped him. Go! None of us want to be found here. It will be the Kiss for us all and all your doing, Bella!  
  
Bellatrix looked over at her companions all of whom showed evident signs of doubt now that Snape mentioned the possibility of the Dementor's Kiss.  
  
she snapped, her voice like a whip. You'd better pray that you are right about this, Snape, or you will live to regret it most deeply.  
  
With that, she and her three companions Disapparated. Snape stared at the spot where they had vanished for some still minutes. Then, he bent down beside the limp forms of Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom. He hesitated on the verge of lifting the living corpses from the carpet. He looked around the room for some sort of sign or perhaps for something with which to aid them. He stood up with an almost pained expression on his sallow face. The Aurors would come and take take them to St. Mungo's where they'd spend the rest of their days confined to a ward. Harry had seen Alice there only that Christmas.   
  
Slowly, deliberately, Snape walked to the crib set against the wall. There was a silence in the room that hung horribly. Harry could sense the young boy's fear as Snape approached him. Snape bent down over the crib and when he straightened up once again he held an infant in his arms. The boy began to cry once more, trying to pull away from Snape. In a fatherly gesture Harry would have thought beyond him, Snape reached up and put a pale hand on the boy's head, pushing him against his chest. The boy's hair was the same dusty brown of as his father's. When he turned his face toward Harry, he recognized the rounded face and wide, green-gray eyes. This was a young Neville Longbottom, maybe not even three years old. Neville stared, stricken, at his parents on the ground. Through his cries he kept screaming No, no over and over again and calling for his parents. They did not stir.  
  
Snape took advantage of Neville's inattention to point his wand at the young boy. He muttered, In a flash of light, a dazed look came over Neville's youthful face and he relaxed immensely. Snape turned him away from the sight of his parents and whispered, Come on, Neville, let's get you to your grandmother's.  
  
As Harry watched them go he felt a hand grasping his shoulder tightly, almost painfully. It was not an angered clasp, more one meant to comfort. However, the reassurance was meant not for Harry but for the person through whom the clasp was being dealt. Harry turned to face the the owner of the hand, wanting to comfort them as well as seek comfort for himself.   
  
It was Snape - the present-day Snape as Harry had always known him. From the greasy hair that framed his face, to the hooked nose, and the billowing black cloak he was still the Potion's Master Harry despised. But he seemed to be falling apart before Harry's eyes. His mouth was frowning not in anger and frustration but in deep sorrow. The eyes, so like endless tunnels in Harry's mind, had gone misty - Harry didn't think Snape capable of tears. When he spoke his voice was quiet and remorseful and broke slightly. He did not look at Harry but continued to stare mournfully at the scene before him. I made my worst mistake that night. The Memory Charm was too strong for him. It effected his mind permanently and I will never forgive myself for it.  
  
Snape looked down at Harry his expression carrying none of its usual hatred. In fact he carried little expression at all. How much did you see? he asked in a toneless voice which stirred deep emotion in Harry. Snape was turning to him for comfort! He had become, in those few moments, unable to rely upon himself.  
  
All of it, Harry responded not looking at the professor but rather at the floor. His pity was keeping him from berating Snape about his parents. He decided not to mention it. Not then. Possibly not ever. I'm sorry, sir. I know I shouldn't have.  
  
Snape closed his eyes and just shook his head. Harry - it was the first time Snape had ever used his first name and Harry felt a sharp pang of guilt. Do not speak of what you saw just now to anyone. Not even Neville knows what I did to him that night. No more does Dumbledore. Or his grandmother, I believe she often reminds him of the failure I caused him to be. He used that same toneless voice again. It was horrible to listen to.   
  
Come on, Snape whispered hoarsely. The scene disappeared into a whirling blackness one last time and Harry felt himself fall onto the hard floor of Snape's dungeon office.  
  
_  
A/N: See? I told you it was sad. Poor Snapey. I rarely ever thought I'd feel bad for him. Not and be able to write about it well enough to make others pity him too. Now, um, the little bits you may have not caught.... Lemme see... the weather outside during that last memory was mirroring that of the first night of term in book 4, so that explains Dumbledore being lost in thought and not paying attention to Dennis falling in a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake and being tossed back out again by a giant, friendly monster. Neville's fear of Snape: to the eyes of a young child Snape's mere presence at the scene was enough to convince him that he had been part of it. Remember, Nev was real young then and probably driven half out of his mind with fear. The boggart in PoA was Snape when he was advancing upon Bellatrix. He was walking toward Neville too - he was behind her. Snape's memory charm on Neville: the popular belief of why Neville's memory is so poor. The uncertainty is whether it was cast to protect Neville or protect himself from being convicted of torturing the Longbottom's. He'd obviously have been worried about his freedom. And Snape overhearing Wormtail's betrayal of the Potter's: ooh! we had a good long story on that one. They put out a general cry for someone to write a fanfic about it - I half answered. We had a Snape, Pettigrew, Lily, James square. All three loved Lily. Pettigrew told Voldemort where the Potter's were to get James out of the way (Lily needn't have died, that's what Voldie said). Snape didn't tell anyone that Voldemort had found out their location for the same reason. However, because of Harry, Lily was murdered too and so everyone was left with a broken heart and Snape with a gnawing guilty conscious for he never told anyone what he'd done - or hadn't done. And he never even told Lily he loved her! WAHHH!!! There - that explains that. Did I miss anything? I don't think so. Please review. I've never done a Snape ficlet before and I wanna know what you guys think. I usually don't deal with Harry either come to think of it. How'd I do on sticking to character? Anyway, thankx!  
~Yours forever, Tsona _


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